Fabella Corvi
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: Mystique must make a startling sacrifice before she can allow those she loves to see her true face.


Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. Please don't sue me or steal my story!  
  
NOTE: This story is slightly AU. Most of the Apocalypse factoids in here were gleaned from X-Men: The Ultimate Guide, The Updated Edition by Peter Sanderson, pages 110-111. Lots of Mystique's plan was based on plot summaries from several episodes of X-Men: Evolution that I still haven't seen. The rest of it, I quite shamelessly made up. Enjoy!  
  
Fabella Corvi#  
By Rowena  
  
The temple was long abandoned, its once majestic staircase and imposing statues now unrecognizable; eroded and half-buried in the Egyptian sand. It had been built many civilizations past, dedicated out of fear to the wrathful deity of war and conquest. In his day, this ruthless god had rivaled even the Pharaoh in power and prestige. As the centuries passed, however, his deeds and stories, even his name had ultimately been forgotten. To most modern scholars the very existence of his temple was a point of contention, all but a crackpot few believing it was anything more than a rumored legend.  
  
Raven knew differently. Climbing down from her camel's back, the lithe, slender woman strode the last few feet to the crumbling heap she had once known better than any place on earth. She had grown up in this place, tending the flames and taking the offerings left by the terrified faithful. For a time, she had even been worshipped as a minor deity herself.  
  
But all that was far behind her now, an ancient memory as windswept and neglected as the unrecognizable ruin before her. She had lived countless lifetimes since then, taken on a countless number of identities. It had now reached a point where Raven hardly even knew who she was anymore. Even her most recent identity—and the persona she had kept up the longest—had long ago become an unbearable burden.  
  
Raven had spent the last seventy years working to further the cause of mutant superiority. She had taken the name Mystique, becoming a skilled and dangerous terrorist. As a founding member of the Brotherhood, she had worked tirelessly and without complaint to whip Magneto's hopeless recruits into some kind of useful shape while that arrogant, thankless fool of a man, despite doing just a fraction of the work, took all the credit for her plans. Well, she had had it. Magneto's glorious 'cause' just wasn't worth it anymore. All the plotting and scheming and hiding that had taken over her life lately, the malicious manipulation of her own children, the pain she had caused those closest to her...what had it gotten her?  
  
An empty apartment, that's what it had gotten her. The hatred of her own kind, both Xavier's X-Men and Magneto's Brotherhood. And, most painfully of all, the awful knowledge that the one person she cared about most in all the world, the only person she had ever loved more than her own, pathetic life, despised the very thought of her.  
  
After a lifetime spanning more than two thousand years, the mistress of deception was growing tired of her art. She was tired of the constant lies, of always concealing her self behind her own skin. Recently, she had been finding her mind turning more and more to fantasies of a 'normal' life, a life where she could show her own face to those she loved, hear them call her by her real name. She wanted to live a life without lies where she could trust and be trusted in return. But before she had a hope of making her dreams of a fresh start come true, Raven first had to find a fool-proof way of throwing off the stigma of Mystique forever. And so, she had returned here, to the one person who could help her reclaim the truth of her identity.  
  
Shedding the thin, white cloths that had shrouded her from the blistering sunlight and abrasive sand, Raven climbed to the top of the dusty mound she had abandoned millennia ago, when she had run away from the sheltered life she had led there with a firm vow never to return. Truthfully, it had only been pride that had kept her away so long. But pride was no longer the issue. Now, she had a higher purpose—and a plan. All she needed was the means to make it all a reality.  
  
"Father!" Raven called out, her sharp voice echoing eerily around the scorched, desolate landscape.  
  
"Father, I have returned. It's Raven. I--" She broke off, fighting against the prideful reluctance tightening her throat as she forced herself to form the distasteful words. "I need your help."  
  
There was a long pause, the silence of the desert pounding in her ears to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Then, all at once the ground under her feet began to shake and rumble, dust and sand pouring from the ruin in rivulets. Raven was forced to wheel her arms, bending her knees as she struggled to keep her balance.  
  
As suddenly as it had begun, the minor earthquake stopped. Raven lowered her arms with a snap, standing defiantly straight. Scowling at the faceless statue beside her, the blue shapeshifter rolled her golden eyes.  
  
"That was not necessary," she snapped. "You can talk to me from under there."  
  
The earthquake started again, the angry tremors more violent then before. Raven snarled, bearing her teeth as she rode out the shock waves.  
  
"Fine then," she snarled, snippily brushing away the dust that had gathered on her shoulders and in her flaming, red hair. "But I'll only say your name once. Don't think I'm stupid enough to let you out of there for good. And none of your tricks either, Dad. I've learned a few things since the last time we saw each other."  
  
The ground rumbled again, but less forcefully this time. Curling her lip slightly, Raven took a deep breath and uttered her father's real name, a name only she could speak without fear of possible consequences.  
  
"En Sabah Nur#," she shouted, her voice powerful and strong, "I, Raven, summon you." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now show your ugly face, already. I want to talk to you."  
  
The statue beside her began to quiver, its eroded features becoming sharper, more defined. Soon, the pale rock had taken the form of a tall, powerful man with cold, white eyes and a blunt, square jaw. His skin was silver and his lips were blue, as was the gleaming metallic suit he wore. He looked down at Raven with a disapproving frown, his brow furrowing over his thick nose.  
  
"Apocalypse," Raven nodded with a slight twist of her lips. "You're looking as well as can be expected, considering where you've been these past one hundred fifty years or so."  
  
"Raven," the enormous metamorph rumbled, roving his glowing eyes over her slender form. He seemed somewhat shocked by her appearance.  
  
"Why do you come to me in this shameful guise?" he demanded angrily.  
  
"There is nothing shameful about this form, Father," Raven retorted, the Mystique in her flaring up as she straightened with an angry glare. Then she averted her golden eyes, her expression hard. "Only the twisted soul that resides within it."  
  
Apocalypse's frown deepened. "Show me your true face, Corvus," he ordered, using the Latin name he had given his child at birth. "I wish to look upon my son."  
  
Raven's head shot up, her wide eyes slightly pained.  
  
"I have shown no one that face since the day I left this place," she said softly, her eyes distant with memory. "I'm not sure I can remember..."  
  
"How long have you been wearing this female form?" He spat the words out with clear disgust. "Where is your honor, boy?"  
  
Raven shot him her deadliest glare. "Honor has nothing to do with this. Nor does gender. I'm a shape-shifter, father, just as you are. Altering my outer appearance, changing my identity—that is what I do. But unlike you, I have had to use my skills to try to blend into human society for most of my life. And human society tends to get suspicious when one of their number doesn't age. I have had to become so many people over the years just to keep my cover—men, women, children...even animals! Twenty years in this town, thirty in that, always needing to have a new identity ready just in case my so-called friends realize my secret and decide to hold a lynching...!"  
  
She trailed off, her shoulders stiffening as she clenched her fists tightly, fighting to reign in centuries of hidden anguish. With great effort, she forced her racing heart to calm and her voice to return to its usual register.  
  
"But I can't do it anymore, Dad," she admitted, meeting his cold eyes with her own. "I can't live like this for another day. And that's why I've come to you."  
  
"I suspect there is more to your presence here that just that," Apocalypse observed flatly. "But I refuse to hold further conversation with you until you show me your proper face." He crossed his arms imperiously, fixing his child with his own stern glare. Raven scowled dangerously for a long moment, as though testing her will against her father's. Then, with a silent sigh, she acquiesced to his wishes.  
  
"Very well," she said curtly. "I'll give it a try." Then, she smirked. "Although I must admit I have gotten rather attached to this face over the years." Her smirk darkened and she turned her head. "If not the persona that goes with it," she muttered under her breath.  
  
There was a pause while Raven's face took on an expression of total concentration, then her slender form slowly began to change. When it was over, Raven's height and golden eyes remained the same, but the flaming red hair and distinctive blue skin that had characterized Mystique were gone. In her place now stood a young man. He had a youthful-looking face with narrow, almost regal features and his short, black hair fell over his forehead in soft curls. His skin was of such a deep tan color that the light of the fading sun lent it a dusky, reddish-brown hue.  
  
"Marcus Corvus," Apocalypse rumbled approvingly, his stony face softening into what could have passed for a warm smile. "It is good to see you again, my son. You have been away for far too long."  
  
Corvus frowned up at Apocalypse, his expression hard. However, to his dismay, before he could speak his long, spaded tail betrayed his anxiety by wrapping itself nervously around his leg.  
  
"Blast," he muttered, glaring at his tail as he forced it to unwind itself. "I'd forgotten how much I loathe this tail." He shook his head, grabbing the tip in his hands to keep it from lashing around. "I can't imagine how Kurt can deal with this day after day. The cursed thing has a mind of its own."  
  
"Kurt?" Apocalypse repeated, furrowing his brow at the unfamiliar name. "Who is that?"  
  
"He's my son," Corvus snapped, still struggling to control his tail. "Your grandson, now I come to think of it."  
  
He paused then, tilting his head slightly as he realized something.  
  
"He's just about the age I was when I left this place," he said softly with a small, almost regretful smile.  
  
"But you have never shown him your face," Apocalypse said, his blunt tone breaking into his son's thoughts. "Have you not told him who you are?"  
  
Corvus shot his father a dirty look. "I couldn't!" he said defensively. "He would never understand. He knows me only as the woman Mystique."  
  
Apocalypse blinked, his thick features twisting in revulsion as his son's words sparked a sudden, disturbing thought in his mind. "But...you cannot be his mother," he exclaimed.  
  
"No!" Corvus shook his head, his golden eyes glowing with a deep pain. "No, I'm—I am his father. But he thinks Mystique is his mother."  
  
"What of his real mother?" Apocalypse pressed, still uncomfortable with his son's apparent nonchalance when it came to shifting genders.  
  
"She is dead," Corvus said curtly, his tail lashing like a whip as it slipped out of his hands. "Kurt knows nothing about her."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Corvus glared up at his father, frustration and fury burning in his guilty, golden eyes.  
  
"How can I tell him his real mother was burned by the superstitious morons of her own town because they thought my beautiful little boy was the devil's son?!" he exclaimed, his voice harsh and bitter. "How can I explain that when I returned to that town almost a year after what I had thought to be a meaningless one night stand, I found Elsie being chained to a pyre while the son I didn't even know I had was screaming in terror from the cage they'd locked him in like...like some kind of animal?!" Corvus took in a shuddering breath, feeling his pulse thunder in his temples.  
  
"And he was so obviously my son," he continued, almost in a whisper. "I knew at the first glance..." He cut himself off, his dark features tightening as he blinked hard against the shameful stinging in his eyes.  
  
"How can I tell him that I didn't even try to rescue his mother?" he demanded, his voice beginning to crack despite all his efforts at control. "That I remained safely hidden in female form while they burned her alive? I couldn't even face them when they went for him. Instead, I shifted myself into an eagle and grabbed him in my claws before they could murder him as well. But he was too heavy, and I just couldn't hold on and I—I—I dropped him! I dropped my son and he fell into the frozen river. I—I dived after him, but the current had taken him so I just...gave him up for lost." He bowed his head, unable to prevent a hot tear from trickling down his face.  
  
"I learned later that a poor Bavarian couple had fished him out of the river several miles downstream, but I didn't try to claim him even then. I convinced myself that I was too busy with my work, paving the way for Magneto's dream of mutant superiority, to raise an infant. Especially one with such obvious physical mutations..."  
  
He shuddered, his youthful face suddenly seeming ancient and careworn. "It is far better for him to believe his mother is a cold-blooded terrorist than to know his father is nothing more than a shame-faced coward," he said softly, wiping his golden eyes with his smooth, spaded tail.  
  
"Perhaps you're right," Apocalypse rumbled, his white eyes cold. "But your unfortunate Elsie is not the only one you have left to the mercy of a soulless mob." He turned a dark, pointed glance to his crumbling temple. "And your little son is not the only one you deserted when he was at his weakest."  
  
Corvus glared, his golden eyes flashing.  
  
"I knew you'd be like this," he scowled, kicking at a loose stone with his sandaled foot. "It isn't my fault you were locked in suspended animation. You brought your defeat upon yourself, trying to take on the entire Roman Empire with that puny mutant army of yours. And then, just after you found a way out of that prison, you promptly got yourself stuck in another one by your own ally!"  
  
"Sinister was never my ally," Apocalypse snapped. "He was an ungrateful, whiny little twit who showed me no respect, no—"  
  
"Well, what did you expect, Dad?" Corvus retorted. "You tried to unleash a deadly plague that would have decimated the British Empire! Or did you forget that Sinister was English?"  
  
Apocalypse glared down at him, his expression stern and unwavering.  
  
"Tell me, Corvus," he demanded, his deep voice sharp and cold. "Why did you come here?"  
  
Corvus stiffened at his father's tone, then sighed in exasperation.  
  
"You want to know why I came here," he said, his tail agitatedly brushing the sand behind him into a fan pattern. "I'll tell you why I came. You want out of this tomb, right?"  
  
"Of course," his father growled.  
  
"I can give you a chance to escape," Corvus stated confidently. "All I ask in return is that you help me fake my own death."  
  
"Why do you need me for that?" Apocalypse asked with a frown. "Haven't you gotten enough practice over the years?"  
  
Corvus's eyes flashed. "I never needed to fool a telepath before," he snapped.  
  
Apocalypse scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Perhaps it might be better if you explained all this to me from the beginning," he said. "Just what are you planning to do?"  
  
Corvus sighed, deeply annoyed. But his father was right. He couldn't expect his help unless he was willing to tell him everything. Well...almost everything.  
  
"When I first created the persona of Mystique I thought I was so clever," he smirked with a small shake of his curly head. "She openly flouted her mutancy, yet could still manage to blend into the crowd if things got tough. As an added bonus, as a shapeshifter she didn't have to age like other people so I could keep up the act as long as I wanted. Little did I realize the act would last for seventy years!"  
  
He snarled, frowning down at his hands as he clasped them before him. "I hate the woman," he declared. "I truly despise her. Mystique has managed to alienate everyone she ever cared about; everyone who might have cared about her. But it is I who have suffered through her cold-blooded acts; I more than anyone else."  
  
Apocalypse listened in silence, his expression thoughtful as his son went on.  
  
"What I want," Corvus said with a desperation that surprised even him, "is the chance to go back to them as myself—to make a fresh start. I want to at least be a friend to my son, if I can't be the father he deserves. And to my adopted daughter, Rogue... I have so much to make up to them."  
  
He straightened, his golden gaze clear and steady. "But most of all, I want the chance to tell the woman I have adored for so long that I do love her, more than I have loved any other woman. I've been hopelessly, desperately in love with her from the moment I first saw her. We have so much in common, so many shared experiences—I have never related more deeply to anyone. She is the one person I can see myself growing old with, despite the fact that I never will grow old. But if she ever found out I had been Mystique....well, therein lies the problem."  
  
Apocalypse was silent for a long moment, his hard expression oddly sympathetic. Corvus couldn't help a sudden sting of suspicion at that, his tail lashing agitatedly while he waited for his father to speak.  
  
"I understand your dilemma, my son," he said at last, his deep voice surprisingly soft. "I loved your mother much the same way. And for a time, she loved me too. Until the Pharaoh's attempts to kill me failed, and she realized what I was."  
  
He clenched his massive fist, his white eyes burning. "Nephri rejected me, renouncing our union and our son. And now it seems the cycle is repeating itself. You wish to tell the woman you love the truth about who you are, yet it is that very truth that will cause her to reject you."  
  
"Yes, that's pretty much it," Corvus nodded. "Unless I can find a way to rid myself of Mystique without causing any suspicion. And that's where you come in."  
  
Apocalypse regarded his son, his expression slightly wary. "There is a way," he said. "But I fear it will require too much of a sacrifice for you, my son. Are you certain that if you told this woman of your love for her, she would return it in kind?"  
  
Corvus lowered his head, his tail twitching nervous patterns into the sand around his ankles. "No," he admitted softly. "I have never even approached her about this, in any form." He looked up then, his dark, coppery face determined. "But just to have the chance to court her, to spend time with her, to let her get to know who I truly am... Father, it would be worth any sacrifice you could name. I love her."  
  
Apocalypse nodded, if a little sadly. "That is how I knew you would respond," he said. "Listen closely then, my son. Locked deep within my temple, there is an amulet with the power to turn living flesh to stone. Normally, this would kill the intended victim—unless the victim activates his mutant powers at the precise moment he first looks upon the amulet's gem. When that happens, a precise stone copy of the victim is created, but the victim himself remains alive."  
  
The enormous man leaned forward, his metallic suit gleaming in the last fading rays of the setting sun. "If you choose to go through with this, Marcus Corvus," he said, his voice eerily intense, "you will revert to your natural form, but you will lose your mutant powers forever. You will no longer be able to shapeshift. As a result, your life will end after only seventy or eighty years."  
  
Corvus blinked, taken aback by his father's words. His dark face grew ashen, and he swallowed hard. Then, his eyes brightened and he straightened, squaring his shoulders in firm determination.  
  
"I told you I was willing to make any sacrifice," he stated calmly, "and it's true. I'll find that amulet. I wasted the last seventy years living a life of hatred and violence. I don't intend to waste the next seventy."  
  
Corvus smiled, feeling lighter than he had in years. It actually seemed that everything was starting to come together. Now it was time to return his father's favor.  
  
"And now," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Back to that plan I was telling you about. Before I came here, I worked out a scheme that—if it works—might free you from this prison." He smiled as his father leaned closer, his obnoxious tail finally deciding to stay still as he warmed to his topic. "Let me tell you the details..."  
  
One Year Later...  
  
Mark Corvus jogged up the steps to the door of the Xavier Institute, flicking off his image inducer and nervously straightening his tie before reaching for the doorbell. The tinkling chimes helped soothe his jitters somewhat as he anxiously waited for the door to open. He didn't think he had ever felt so nervous in his life, not even when he had stood before that amulet nearly a year ago. Apocalypse had really come through for him that day, pulling his unconscious body to safety mere moments before the X-Men had found the stony shell that was all that remained of Mystique. The enormous mutant had been so uncharacteristically kind that Corvus had almost felt it was a shame that Xavier's team had defeated him so soon afterwards. But, even when he had first devised the plan, he had counted on Apocalypse's defeat. After all, Corvus held no illusions as to the danger his powerful, megalomaniac of a father posed to the world.  
  
No sooner was he satisfied with the state of his tie, than the curtain was pushed away from the window and a pair of glowing, golden eyes peeped out. The moment they saw who was standing on the stoop, the pointy-eared mutant they belonged to flashed a bright smile and promptly vanished in a puff of smoke.  
  
BAMF!  
  
Even though he had been prepared for it, Mark still jumped a little when the grinning, blue teenager reappeared beside him.  
  
"Hey, Dad!" he greeted Corvus with a warm hug. Corvus felt his tail wrap around his son's waist almost of its own accord, smiling himself when Kurt's fuzzy tail returned the brief embrace.  
  
"Let me guess," the teen beamed mischievously as they pulled apart, his German accent lending a pleasant tint to each of his words. "You've come to steal away my teacher for yet another romantic evening alone. And on a weeknight, too." He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Is this any kind of example to set for us kids?"  
  
Mark chuckled, reaching out to affectionately tousle his son's long hair, reveling in the touch and the trust it implied. "If you're so worried about your teacher's reputation," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Check this out."  
  
He winked conspiratorially, pulling out a tiny, black velvet box. Kurt's eyes widened as Mark opened it, revealing a delicately woven gold band set with a small, but very tasteful diamond.  
  
Kurt opened his mouth to make a stunned remark, but Mark raised a finger to his lips.  
  
"Not a word," he smiled. "I want this to be a complete surprise. Now go get her for me, OK? And don't tell her it's me!" he exclaimed, speaking fast to catch Kurt before he teleported. "I'll be right here."  
  
"Ja!" Kurt beamed brightly, openly displaying his gleaming, white fangs in his excitement. "Sure thing, man!" The exuberant teen shot him a thumbs-up of sincere approval before vanishing in a BAMF of sulfurous smoke. Mark held his breath for a moment as he waited for the smoke to dissipate, then he chuckled softly in amusement. He still couldn't figure out just which side of the family the boy had inherited that trick from.  
  
Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by what was, to his ears, possibly the sweetest sound in all the world. He could hear his love's low voice even through the closed door, and he shuddered slightly despite himself, his heart pounding as all his nerves returned in a jittery rush of goosebumps. She had just asked Kurt who was at the door.  
  
"Don't look at me," Kurt's accented voice replied with an audible smile. "But I think it's for you, Fraulein Storm."

The End  
  
#The Raven's Tale (Corvus means 'Raven' in Latin. For the purposes of this story, Raven was born around the time Rome took over Egypt—mainly because I don't have a clue how to say 'Raven' in Ancient Egyptian. ;) Also, although the Pharaoh referred to in the comics was a man, for the purposes of this story it's Cleopatra shortly before the end of her reign. It is an AU story, after all!)  
  
#Apocalypse's real name, En Sabah Nur, literally means "The First One" according to X-Men: The Ultimate Guide. 


End file.
